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I wrinkled my nose at the fruit in the salad but said nothing.
“He did grumble about all the sweetness ruining the robust flavours.” Jora chuckled.
I tipped my lips up into a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. Lonan said nothing.
“Enjoy. I’ll be back with your dessert in a little while.”
“Appreciate it, Jora.” I picked up my own wine glass as she left the room, taking a gulp and immediately wincing at the sweetness. But I licked my lips and smiled at Lonan as I set it down. “The wine’s good.”
He nodded, standing up and holding out a waiting hand. “Pass me your plate.”
I did, watching as he filled it. I’d told him before that he didn’t have to do this for me, but he insisted. He said he liked looking after me in the ways he could. His tone hadn’t been curt or bitter, but I’d detected the meaning beneath the words.
It was probably quite hard to look after a king who could have whatever he wanted with a snap of his fingers. Not that I was demanding. I liked to think I wasn’t, anyway. I left the staff to their chores without bothering them. I tried to make sure Jora didn’t do too much for us.
But still.
I thanked him with a smile as he passed my full plate back to me, waiting to start eating until he’d dished up his own food.
It was quiet. I was used to Lonan being quiet. Normally I filled the air with conversation, but I was too nervous for that, anticipating his reaction to what I was going to tell him.
“How was training with Gillie?” I asked eventually, spearing a potato with my fork.
Lonan shrugged and gave me a tiny smile. He seemed more relaxed now he’d started eating. “Fine. He was hungover, so not at his best.”
I laughed. “When is he not at least a little bit hungover?”
Lonan grunted as he stuffed salad into his mouth. “True.”
The conversation was stilted as we ate, but I could tell that was partly due to how hungry he was. He barely took a breath between mouthfuls, slathering sweetened butter on his bread and over his potatoes, gulping down sweet wine, eating every bite of chicken with a roasted carrot gleaming with honey.
Some of the tension in me eased. His appetite hadn’t lessened, at least.
But by the time Jora cleared our plates and brought out our dessert, I was nervous again. I twisted the hem of my shirt in my fingers beneath the table as she set the delicate glass bowl in front of me.
“Sticky toffee pudding,” she announced, placing individual bowls of lightly whipped cream in front of us both. “Sweetened cream.” She set a small porcelain jug in the centre of the table. “Caramel to pour on top.”
My teeth were already aching at the thought of eating it. But this had been one of my dad’s favourite puddings, and Lonan was already heaping cream on top of his, so I picked up my spoon and gave Jora a smile.
I managed half of it and gave the rest to Lonan. He covered it in cream and doused it in caramel, and when he was finally full, he sat back with a contented sigh. As he picked up his wine glass, I carefully poured myself some water.
“So.” I cleared my throat and took a sip. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
Lonan stiffened almost imperceptibly, his dark eyes locking on my face. “Oh?”
I raised my chin and forced myself to look at him. “I think I want to go and see my old home. My… mortal home.”
His face softened. He gave me a tiny smile as he leaned forward in his seat. “Of course, Ash. We can go there.”
My stomach twisted with nerves and guilt.
“I’m going to go with Nua,” I told him, making sure my tone was decisive.
Lonan’s dark brows twitched. He stared at me, and when a hint of hurt wavered in his black eyes, I felt even worse.
“You don’t want me to go with you?”
“Of course I do,” I rushed out. “But it’s not safe, Lonan. You can’t leave seelie. The Carlin—”
